


Temptation

by Neosiuss



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Trespasser DLC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 19:23:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5060974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neosiuss/pseuds/Neosiuss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian Pavus was never meant to be happy. He realized this years before he left Tevinter. When Rilienus unraveled himself from Dorians grasp wordlessly and spoke those words Dorian had been dreading since their affair started. Fifteen years later, Dorian still refuses to trust, refuses to love.<br/>--<br/>Just a little drabble I've been thinking about. The main pairing is kinda Adoribull. Trespasser spoilers, major spoilers so if you haven't played the DLC don't read this!!</p>
<p>There is no happy ending I'm sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temptation

Dorian Pavus was never meant to be happy. 

He realized this years before he left Tevinter. When Rilienus unraveled himself from Dorians grasp wordlessly and spoke those words Dorian had been dreading since their affair started. 

"I'm betrothed."

Two words. and yet Dorians world was ruined. Completely and utterly shattered. Granted, his world at fifteen was not very large, but it still crumbled beneath him. It was then he decided to steal his heart. That is not to say he didn't beg and plead with the man; plenty of the greatest magisters had secret lovers. Surely Rilienus would be inclined to that life style. 

The soft smile shot his way confirmed Dorians worst fears. They were through. 

Fifteen years later, Dorian still refuses to trust, refuses to love. 

Fifteen years later and he's found himself in the company of a fledgling Inquisition. It's what he needs to do, he tells himself. He needs to reconcile with his homeland. And if he's the only Tevinter to stand against the Venatori publicly, so be it. 

Fifteen years later, Dorian trips and exposes his heart to a man he never thought would spare him a second glance. 

Cullen Stanton Rutherford. He was hardly as elegant as his name implied. A Southern Chantry boy; the death of Dorian Pavus as he knew it. The moment he burst into the war room, smirking at the Inquisitor and her advisers, Dorian knew Cullen was special. Perhaps it was the mantle around his shoulders, or the delectable scar that seemed to pull his lip up just right. 

Whatever it was, Dorian knew he was trouble. And yet, he still chased the man. Chess games with thinly veiled flirtations and innuendos. A drink or five in the tavern, hands wandering under those tables as they held conversations with others. Dorian felt like he was fifteen once more, the familiar flutter in his chest every time Cullen shot him that crooked smirk. Maker how he adored that smirk. 

It was a warm Spring day, quite unusual for Skyhold. Dorian felt like he was on top of the world. The surge of confidence hit him and he packed a basket of cheese and wine, making his way to the Commanders office under the guise of lunch and a friendly chess game. When he swung the door open, however, any confidence he felt surely left him. 

There, in each other's arms, were his commander and the Inquisitor. 

_Not your Commander_ , he reminded himself. Oh, how he was fooled. Thinking someone as respectable as the Commander of the  _fucking_ Inquisiton would feel anything for him. He was expendable, a Mage used purely for research. 

He'd left as quickly as he'd arrived, mumbling his excuses and making his way back to his quarters. Surely such a nice bottle of wine shouldn't be wasted. And Maker was it an expensive bottle. 

_You've got yourself into quite the predicament, Pavus. How dare you think yourself important, wanted. A Tevinter Mage and a heroic Kinght-Commander? Hah! Such high expectations, just like your father._

The words were his own and they still stung. 

\----

He found his bliss at the bottom of the bottle; Sun Vint, quite the vintage. A knock at his door drew a grimace and he glared, mumbling what he thought was a "go away".

Apparently his visitor thought it was a warm welcome. 

"Hey, 'Vint. The kid sent me," Bull crossed the small room, pulling the empty bottle from Dorians clutches. 

"Ah, glad to know he decided to find the last person I wanted to see," it was a blatant lie. Dorian knew it, and so did The Iron Bull. The man lived and breathed lies. Dorian didn't mind the company. It was welcomed. There had been flirtations between the two, more than what he'd had with Cullen. 

_Cullen_. Just the thought of the commander made Dorians stomach turn and he feared he would lose the expensive bottle of wine all over Bull's nice shoes. He assumed Bull knew; Bull knew everything. 

Dorian cried for the first time I fifteen years that night, his head cradled against Iron Bull's chest, fingers grasping for any form of fabric to ground him to this world. He found purchase on Bull's harness and pushed him down, slowly straddling the Qunaris hips. 

He rode Bull's cock with enthusiasm that night; hands splayed across the grey skin of Bull's chest as he gasped Cullen's name, tears continuing their unrelenting stream down his cheeks. He needed this, and Bull knew it. 

Dorian knew it. As much as he hated to admit, he put everything he was on display that night. His weakest parts completely exposed. And Bull had taken each part without question, without pressing anything. He held Dorian tightly as he begged the Qunari to stay, not to leave him alone with his thoughts, unsafe on his own. 

And Dorian was content. As the nights turned to days which turned to weeks and to months, he was content. Finally allowed a small slice of peace. 

\-----

The letter from his father should have disturbed him more than it did. 

That was a lie; he was unsettled as soon as the Inquisitor approached him from faced. He assumed the worst: Cullen had left her and now she needed a dear friend. He ignored the slight flutter it caused in his chest as he attempted to listen. The words "letter" and "father" we're all he needed before he excused himself, practically scrambling to Bull's quarters. 

 

It took convincing but he'd gone to Redcliffe ready to face this retainer with a rather large mark on his bared shoulder, courtesy of his  _male Qunari lover_.

All his bravado left the moment he heard his father’s voice. 

The conversation was the worst he'd ever had and he longed to leave. Glad the Inquisitor picked up on his body language, he left without reconciling. It seemed the best thing to do. The attempted ritual still left the taste of copper in his mouth, lingering after a particularly vivid night terror. The only things he'd found able to chase the taste were wine and Bull. 

The Iron Bull. Who called him  _kadan_ , a word that was foreign to Dorian, though he didn't need to speak Qunlat to understand. It was endearment. Much like the soft  _amatus_  he whispered when he assumed the other asleep. 

It was unspoken but universally understood. 

\----

Seventeen years later, Dorian allowed the words to leave his mouth.  _I love you_ , whispered against Bull's shoulder as they came down from a collective orgasm. Bull hadn't responded right away, but Dorian didn't panic. They both knew it. They'd known it for months. The words were purely superficial, meant to cement their relationship before Dorian left for Tevinter.

"A month, amatus. I promise. I'll return with gifts and ribald tales," The words sat bittersweet in his mouth, and Bull had kissed the feeling away. 

\----

Seventeen years later and the Exalted Council looms over their heads. The end they all expected but still dreaded. He'd returned to a bone crushing hug and a softly whispered endearment. He couldn't be happier. 

Until he saw the stupid band on stupid Cullen's stupid finger. The fool had married the Inquisitor. Quietly, not a word mentioned to the inner circle or the advisers. It was an elopement if Dorian ever saw one. It put him in a sour mood. 

He didn't quite understand why, though. He'd moved on, right? Iron Bull was all he needed, all he wanted. But Cullen's marriage made him bristle with feelings he hadn't felt in years. 

He knew the council would be hell, but the appearance of a Qunari mercenary made everything worse. 

And he was thrown back into the fray, Inquisitor, Dorian, Bull, and Cassandra. Just like old times. 

But something was wrong. 

"Hissrad, please, vinek kathas."

"Understood, ma'am. Nothing personal, bas."

It was then, watching his lover breathe his last breath, Dorian Pavus understood he was never meant to be happy. 

\---

"The Iron Bull must be so proud of himself; kadan."

The words fell out, acid coating his tongue and throat, swelling it shut as he choked on his loss. Trevelyn, bless her little soul, tried to match his anger. 

It was impossible. Dorian wasn't angry. He wasn't sad. 

Apathy, he later learned, would be the descriptor. 

Apathy he became acquainted with.

Apathy would not disappoint; apathy wouldn't break your heart. Apathy asked nothing and gave nothing. 

Apathy was secondary, easy. 

\---

Twenty years later Dorian realizes he cannot trust anyone. 

Julius promised stability. A magister like Dorian, but one who joined his party. One who fought with the same passion Dorian did. 

Dorian trusted him. Slowly invited him in. 

Julius, to no one’s surprise, turned out to be a Venatori sleeper cell. Dorian woke to a knife against his throat and all he could do was grin stupidly up at the man. 

But he didn't see Julius, didn't see Iron Bull, didn't see Cullen Stanton Rutherford. He didn't even see Rilienus, the man he blamed for his cynicism.  He saw Halward Pavus. Halward Pavus smirked astride his chest, letter opener cutting into the tender flesh just under his jaw. 

Halward Pavus reveling in his sons defeat. 

And it was then Dorian realized he truly was never meant to be happy. 

In defense against Julius, he felt his magic intertwine with the small drops of blood revealed by the small knife. 

It was then Dorian Pavus realized the words on his tombstone truly would be temptation. 

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this on my phone at 3 AM under the influence before I edited it. Thanks to my two best friends for BETA-ing, I appreciate it <3 lmk if anything is off with formatting!!
> 
> Comments make me happy even if I broke your heart <3


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